


Making the Partnership Permanent

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First War with Voldemort, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:59:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5924155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a marriage between men, who is the wife?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making the Partnership Permanent

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

“Are you being hopelessly romantic or is this something you’ve dreamed up because you’re bored?”

“Bored? I’m hurt, Remus. I can’t believe you think I’d spend time planning our nuptials simply to give myself something to do.”

“I have to admit, you are attacking this with the same sort of fervor you applied to plotting ways to make the Slytherin dorms smell of sulphur.”

“Do words like ‘attacking’ and ‘fervor’ and ‘plotting’ sound like descriptions of someone suffering from terminal ennui?”

“Alright, you’re not bored. But you make me nervous when you use works like ‘nuptials’ and ‘ennui.’”

“Why? Too formal? Too French?”

“Yes, because you’re neither formal nor French.”

“You’re trying to sidetrack me. Well, it won’t work.”

“I don’t know why I bother. You can be bloody single-minded when you want to be.”

“Then, why don’t you simply give up, and help me plan a meaningful ceremony, a memorable celebration, and an unforgettable honeymoon?”

“We. Can’t. Get. Married. It’s not legal. What part of that concept refuses to penetrate your thick skull?”

“Stop obsessing on the technicalities. It’s our ceremony. We can call it whatever we damn well please.”

A thoughtful pause ensues.

“Fine. I can’t resist you when you’ve got that look in your eyes. But, I do have one question. Call it a point of order.”

“What’s your point of order?”

“Which of us is the wife?”

A second, even more thoughtful, pause ensues.

“Are you trying to make this difficult?”

“No, but everyone will want to know. Who’s the wife?”

A much shorter pause, ending when a sparkle lights mischievous gray eyes.

“Since I proposed to you, that makes you the wife.”

“The only reason you proposed first is because you got all mushy and emotional at James’ and Lily’s wedding.”

“Like you never get emotional. I’ve seen you get weepy when we run out of Earl Grey tea.”

Silence falls while both men regroup.

“Usually, it’s the shorter of the pair, which would be you.”

“It’s often the one who’s more capable in the kitchen. That would be you.”

“Well, if we’re going to use domestic measures, it’s also almost always the one most likely to keep things disgustingly neat and organized. Again, you.”

“Ah, but in addition to domestic talents, it’s generally the person most adept at providing tender, loving care to the frail and injured. You win that category.”

“I take it that you’re describing yourself as the frailer of the two of us. Since I am physically stronger, you’re the wife.”

“Wait a moment. I’m much stronger than you during the full moon.”

“That just makes you the canine alpha, not the human one. And that’s only one day out of the month.”

“I’m smarter.”

“What!? Says who!? And since when are husbands smarter than wives?”

“Well, that certainly stuck a nerve. It’s nice to see you stick up for your fellow wives.”

“You know, Remus, you didn’t actually say that husbands are smarter. You said that **you** were smarter. What I’ve also heard you say about every married couple we know is that the woman is obviously smarter than the man, if for no other reason than she lets him think he’s in control. If you **are** smarter than me, then I guess you’re the wife.”

“Then you admit I’m smarter than you?”

“You’re starting to give me a headache.”

“How wifely of you. Next thing you’ll say is ‘Not tonight, dear.’ ”

“That phrase has never and will never cross my lips. Besides, we both know I want sex more than you do.”

“That’s not true! And why do you think that the husband’s sex drive is stronger than the wife’s?”

“Did I say that?”

“Didn’t you? Wait, I’m starting to lose track. Maybe we should find some other parameter, leaving out physical and personality traits.”

A fifth pause silences the conversation, pregnant with thought.

“I’ve got it!”

“What?”

“The husband is the one whose name comes first alphabetically. Black comes before Lupin.”

“Yes, but Remus comes before Sirius.”

“Pfff. A difference of only one letter. By that measure, we come almost equally.”

“Yes, we do. Almost all the time.”

A final pause, filled with knowing smiles.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Bed?”

“Bed.”


End file.
